


Whittled Away

by purple_bookcover



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Gilbert Week (Fire Emblem), Guilt, Hobbies, M/M, Polyamory, Wood carving, handjob
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-09
Updated: 2020-09-09
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:47:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26377525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/purple_bookcover/pseuds/purple_bookcover
Summary: Gustave (Gilbert) has fled society, hiding away after the Tragedy of Duscur. Alois is determined to find his old friend and show him he is still loved.
Relationships: Gilbert Pronislav/Alois Rangeld
Comments: 2
Kudos: 3
Collections: Gilbert Week 2020





	Whittled Away

**Author's Note:**

> For Gilbert Week! Prompt: Hobbies.
> 
> I'm gonna be real: I did not look up the whole FE3H timeline and stuff for this. I just liked the idea of Alois and Gustave being friends and Alois and his wife having a poly relationship and just being worried for Gustave and wanting to check up on him. I think the three of them are really sweet and nice together.

“I found him,” Alois said.

Ella looked up from the knife she sharpened against a leather strap. “Are you sure?”

Alois entered his home, setting his bag on the floor. He eased out of muddy boots to sit beside his wife on the rug in front of their fireplace. Something in the pot hanging over the fire made Alois’ empty stomach grumble. 

Ella set down the knife and leather strap, stroking his face. “You look exhausted, my love.”

“I am exhausted,” he said. “He didn’t make himself easy to locate.”

“And yet you’ll rush right back out to him on the morrow, won’t you?”

Alois nodded against her gentle touch. “If I wait too long, he might move again.”

Ella took his face in her hands, kissing him. “You don’t need to be the one to do this. Gustave made his own choices.”

“No,” Alois said, “I do. The tragedy wasn’t his fault, yet he’s still running from the guilt. No one else is even trying to find him.”

“You’re tired.”

“Some of that stew might perk me up.”

Ella sighed, shaking her head. “My stubborn man.” She kissed him again. “He won’t deserve you, if you find him.”

He tucked her buckwheat hair behind her ear. “I have to try.”

#

He found Gustave.

It was harder than Alois expected and took longer than he planned. He stopped in inns, writing letters to Ella along the way, assuring her he was OK, he was still trying, he would see this through. 

When he finally located Gustave, it was even farther off the beaten path than he’d expected. Alois had to dismount his horse and drag the poor beast up a mountainside, through brambles and thickets and patches of clutching thorns. 

This deep into the wilderness, there were no paths to follow. Alois navigated by the little markers of past travel – foliage beaten down by the repeated passage of feet, brambles cut back, a footprint in the mud. 

Suddenly, the trees pushed away, a small breath of space in which a tiny, sturdy home stood, a home built from the boughs of this very forest. It had a bit of a porch wrapped around it, a single chair sitting atop it like a sentry. Some clothes hung on a line strung between the trees.

Alois picketed his horse, getting the tired animal out of its tack so it could graze. He brought nothing with him as he followed the sound of steady thunks around the side of the home.

Behind it, Gustave was shirtless, an axe raised high over his head. He was just as strong as he’d been as a knight, the muscles in his arms and back flexing as he brought the axe down and split the log in half. 

“Gustave.”

He jerked, the axe clutched in his hands as he spun toward Alois’ voice. Gustave’s eyes went wide, his mouth slackening. He looked like a horse startled by a lightning bolt. 

Alois put up his hands. “Hold on. Wait.”

“What are you doing here? How did you find me?”

“I searched,” Alois said. “I searched for so long.”

“Why? Who else is looking?”

“No one,” Alois said. “Just me. It’s just me.”

That seemed to calm him. Gustave set down the axe, wiping at the sweat on his forehead. His fear turned to awkwardness. “Would you like … water? It is all I can offer.”

Alois exhaled a sigh. “Yes, that would be great.”

#

“Ella is worried about you too,” Alois said. “I’ve been writing to her.”

Gustave tensed beside him. They sat together on that little porch, legs dangling off the edge. It turned out there was only the one chair in the whole house. It took quite a while to make such a thing and Gustave hadn’t exactly been anticipating visitors. 

“Writing to her...”

Alois regretted mentioning it. “It’s OK. Ella won’t say anything. She just wants to know you’re well.”

“I see...”

“Are you?” Alois said. 

Gustave didn’t respond to that. “I need to finish with the wood.”

“Can I help?”

“It is a job for one man,” Gustave said. 

“Then perhaps I could cook. I have provisions on my horse. Do you have a hearth?” 

Gustave mused over this. A meal meant Alois wasn’t leaving any time soon. 

“Very well,” he said.

Alois took the victory. 

The interior of the home was simple, but cozy. It was all one room, a hearth in one corner, the bed at the opposite end covered in a thin blanket. Gustave had a table, which Alois presumed the lone chair belonged with. There were some belongings stacked neatly in one corner and the beginnings of what Alois assumed would be a chest for holding them. 

Alois got a fire started as the forest darkened outside the windows. He chopped up the meat, some vegetables and a potato, putting them in a pot filled with boiling water. It wasn’t anything fancy, but Gustave didn’t seem to mind when he came in from chopping wood. 

He accepted a bowl of stew wordlessly, settling on his bed.

“You may have the chair,” Gustave said. 

“Thanks.”

They ate largely in silence, Gustave taking slow spoonfuls like he wasn’t sure he was allowed to be eating at all. Alois nearly sighed at the sight. The man was so laden with guilt it was like a harness around his neck. He couldn’t even accept a simple bowl of soup. 

Alois set his bowl aside and sat beside Gustave on his bed. The mattress felt nearly as thin as the blanket. He hesitated, but Gustave did not jerk away and Alois held his silence.

Alois took out the knife at his belt, as well as a small trinket he’d kept in his belt pouch throughout his journey. It was mostly just a lump of wood, but it was beginning to vaguely resemble a horse. He skimmed his knife over it, cutting away a little curl of wood to sharpen the shape. 

“What is that?” Gustave said.

“I’ve been whittling during my journey,” Alois said. “I find it relaxing. It reminds me of home, of Ella. She loves horses. I plan to give this to her when I get home.”

“It is … nice,” Gustave said. 

“Yeah?” Alois said. “I’m just … _horsing_ around.”

He waited, but the joke didn’t quite land the way he’d hoped. 

“Why don’t you try it?”

“I do not see the point,” Gustave said. “What is the purpose of wasting wood in this way?”

“To make something beautiful,” Alois said. “Or fun. Or nothing at all. Sometimes there isn’t a point. Sometimes it’s just a nice way to pass the time.”

He held out the knife and horse for Gustave, who merely stared at it for a long moment before finally accepting it. 

Gustave regarded the little chunk of wood like it was utterly foreign to him. He turned it around, observing it from several angles. Finally, he raised the knife, carving away a strip. 

Alois sobered his smile. “You’re pretty good at this.”

Gustave did not reply.

“Ella really is gonna love it,” Alois said. “She asks me about you every time I’m home. She worries for you.”

“Have you told her I am a traitor?”

“Gustave--”

“No, do not try to soothe me with words or … whatever this is.” He looked up, fixing Alois with his sad, pale eyes. “Do not try to absolve me. I did not come out here seeking atonement. I came here so I could not fail them all again.”

Alois’s chest tightened. He’d suspected that’s how Gustave felt, but to have it laid out so plainly, so raw... 

“Gustave, you don’t need to atone forever,” Alois said. “You could return.” 

Gustave resumed carving, but shook his head. “No one would desire that.”

Alois reached out, stilling Gustave’s hands, squeezing them in his own as they froze over the wooden horse. “I would.”

This time, Gustave looked at him with fear and disbelief. 

Alois waited. He waited for Gustave to pull away, to flee, to jerk out of his grasp. But he didn’t. He stayed there with Alois’s hands on his and met his gaze as though digging through it, hoping to uncover the lie. 

He wouldn’t find one. Alois was sure of that.

Alois leaned toward Gustave, still waiting for him to startle away, but he held still, even as Alois got so close their lips brushed together. Gustave let him press, let him meet his lips and taste their warmth.

Alois stayed only a moment before pulling away, searching Gustave’s face for hesitation or worry. He found only a faint flush.

“What are you doing?” Gustave said. 

“I came here for you,” Alois said. “Gustave, I’ve been searching for you for so long.”

“Surely, you do not mean that.”

Alois leaned forward again, proving his point with his mouth rather than his words. He pressed harder, pressed until he felt Gustave resisting against him, pushing back, meeting him. 

Alois sighed against him, opening his lips to prod with his tongue. Gustave let him inside. It was surprising how pliant he was, how soft, how willing to open. How long had the poor man been lonely?

Alois kissed him harder, licking into his mouth, holding his head in his hands, trying to force his concern and care onto this broken man. Gustave didn’t hold him or touch him in return, didn’t even set aside the carving. But nor did he push Alois away. 

It was Alois who broke the kiss, sitting back, still holding Gustave’s head, thumbs stroking his cheeks. Gustave watched him as though he didn’t believe Alois was real. 

“Gustave, I want you to touch me,” Alois said. “And I want to touch you.” 

Alois saw Gustave’s throat bob as he swallowed, but he said, “Very well.” 

Alois kissed along Gustave’s neck this time, scraggly from being shaved without the proper tools, if at all. His other hand wandered down. When he rubbed over Gustave’s pants, Gustave gasped. The carving clattered to the floor.

Alois pulled away. “I’m sorry.” 

“N-no,” Gustave said. “No, I am just … I simply...” 

He didn’t need to go on. Alois understood. It was clear how long Gustave had gone without a kind touch, clear how little he thought he deserved it. 

“Do you trust me?” Alois said. “Can I make you feel good?” 

Gustave nodded, jaw clenched tight. 

Alois kissed him. “Then lie back.”

Gustave did, settling on his bed, eyes glued to Alois’ every move. Alois removed his own shirt (Gustave was still shirtless from the wood chopping) then positioned over Gustave. He rubbed over his pants at first, letting him keep them on, watching his face as his eyes fluttered shut. Goddess, it took so little to have him blushing and gasping.

Alois picked at the laces of the pants, watchful, but Gustave just writhed against his hand. Alois eased Gustave’s pants down, trying not to think too hard about the scars criss-crossed all over Gustave’s body. 

Gustave opened his eyes. He watched Alois like a starving man at a banquet as Alois got his own pants off. Alois hadn’t planned for this. Who could have? He’d truly meant to check up on the man, but the moment he saw him, Alois knew he wanted to touch him, wanted to make him feel cared for, cherished. 

Alois took both their cocks in his hand, pressing them together. Gustave’s chest swelled with a shuddering breath. Alois just waited like that, holding them both, propped up over Gustave.

Then he slid his hand down them, slowly working up and down. Gustave’s eyes squeezed shut again, head tilting back against the thin sheet. He was gritting his teeth, ragged breaths struggling out between them. 

“A-Alois...” 

“Shh,” Alois said. “I have you. I have you, Gustave.” 

Gustave’s mouth went slack, his breaths turning into whimpering moans. He reached for Alois, clutched his arm like he was holding on for dear life. 

Alois kept stroking, dragging his hand up and down. Pre-cum lubricated his way now. He swirled his finger over their slits, then pumped down. The friction sent heat up into Alois’s belly. He was sure the same was true for Gustave. The man had Alois’s arm in an iron grip, his moans deepening, taking on a rhythm that matched Alois’s hand.

There was something lovely in watching him relent, watching him submit to a kind touch, to this moment of pleasure. Alois kept picking, kept working, like trying to whittle a horse out of a formless chunk of wood. That beautiful thing was there, lurking within, if only Alois was persistent enough to find it.

He was. He had to be.

He stroked faster, enjoying the extra friction. Gustave was well ahead of him. His nails bit into Alois’s skin when the speed increased. Alois concentrated on Gustave’s face, now wracked with pleasure, and urged himself to catch up, to dive after that precipice Gustave seemed about to crash over.

He ended up several steps behind. 

Gustave came on his stomach with a barked cry, a shout at the ceiling. He bucked under Alois, quivering and quaking like he was going to shatter into a million pieces.

It was wonderful to witness. A privilege and an invitation, one Alois meant to accept.

He hunched forward, stroking himself with the strength and speed he needed, a strength and speed he’d held back on for Gustave’s sake. Now, he indulged fully, coming on Gustave as the sensation hit its peak. 

Then he just paused, panting over Gustave, trying to catch his breath and find something sturdy among the strangeness of what had just transpired. Once more, he couldn’t help fearing that Gustave meant to bolt, meant to curl up inside himself and run away. 

Alois finally met Gustave’s eyes. Gustave just watched him, mouth still open, eyes searching Alois’s face with that look like he couldn’t believe any of this was real. Gustave reached up, touching Alois’s face with wonder.

“Thank you,” Gustave said.

Something broke inside Alois’s chest. He swept down, kissing Gustave hard, heedless of the mess smeared between their bodies.

He stayed until morning.

#

“How was he?”

Alois set his bag on the floor, took his shoes off slowly. His body ached from so many days of travel, but his heart surged when he straightened and saw Ella standing before him, waiting for him. She looked even more beautiful than he remembered.

He swept her into his arms and kissed her. She wrapped her arms around his neck, kissing him back, holding him tight.

“Not so good, huh?” she said when they broke apart.

Alois didn’t let her go far, keeping her pressed against his body. Goddess, how he’d missed her. “Better than I thought, but also worse.”

She nodded in understanding. “But you did find him?”

“I did.”

“And you stayed with him?”

“I did.”

She smiled. “My, well, that’s something. He let you stay.”

Alois’s own smile spread. “Yeah.”

“Do you think he’ll be OK? Do you think he’ll return?”

Alois hesitated, thinking of that lonely home in the woods, of its even lonelier occupant. He’d left the wooden horse behind, telling Gustave to finish it and bring it to him some day. But would he? 

“I think he will,” Alois said. 

Ella just kissed him again. She tasted like home. Like warmth. Like family. Like all the things he wished for Gustave.

Maybe some day. 

Even if everyone else gave up on him, Alois still believed.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/purplebookcover) (18+ please).
> 
> I respond to every comment. Thank you, friends!


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